


Like a lighthouse in a storm, you were always guiding me

by frostysunflowers



Series: Irondad Bingo [12]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Gen, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, a bit of a change up, who the hell is canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23633302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: "I think the kid’s struggling," Tony says, closing his eyes as he leans into Pepper’s touch. "And I know we’ve talked but there’s something...he looks sad, Pep. It’s got me thinking.""Thinking what?""All of this, you know, coming back to find May and Happy shacked up together is a hell of a thing on its own, but then this…" Tony makes a vague gesture in the air, "and me, Morgan...It’s so different to how it used to be.""I don’t think Peter’s the type to get jealous, Tony.""Not jealous," Tony says, "more like - ""Forgotten?"The word, even spoken by Pepper, is still harsh and cutting. It draws a sharp breath from Tony and he winces, eyes narrowing at the thought. "Yeah, something like that."orReturning to what they used to consider normal is hard to achieve. It's even harder when Tony is constantly worried about Peter.
Relationships: Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Irondad Bingo [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1444564
Comments: 286
Kudos: 1060





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ciaconnaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciaconnaa/gifts).



> Yes, hello, it is I, coming fresh from the pits of writer's block hell. This fic has been brewing for so long, and what started out as something that was meant to be a little bit funny became an 18k fic with feels running wild. Go figure, my muse is a monster. 
> 
> Big thanks to blondsak and hailingstars for listening to me complain about this for sooo long, you guys are awesome and I'm so lucky to know you, and all my undying love and care and adoration for ciaconnaa who not only said BITCH repeatedly when she read everything through which is like my favourite thing that she says to me, she also gave me such invaluable help and tweaks to it all that just made it soooo much better and I'm very grateful - love you mon ami <3
> 
> Irondad bingooooo square - canon divergent

One of Tony’s favourite things is a video of him and a nearly one year old Morgan.

It starts off blurry at first, the unmistakable sound of baby chatter coming in first, then focusing on Tony holding a laundry basket and nodding patiently while Morgan jabbers away at him from the safety of a playpen. The basket is quickly abandoned in favour of scooping up the almost-toddler for a hug. It eventually turns into a soft, swaying dance, Tony’s voice gently crooning "I love you, baby," into Morgan’s little ear while Pepper coos from behind the camera. 

Tony’s seen pictures of Peter at that age, all big sparkling eyes and gummy smiles, sitting on the laps of his parents, in the arms of a man Tony comes to recognise as Ben and cuddling up with a younger looking May with hair past her waist. 

Those pictures serve as a repeated source of comfort in the five year gap, that stretch of time where the tide of grief was strong and any glimmers of happiness were revered like gold dust, and Tony and May held tight to the solace they found in each other as they mourned the loss of the boy who meant so much to both of them. 

The little tradition of perusing the photo albums had begun shortly after Pepper announced she was expecting. The entire world was in devastated uproar, all hope was dead along with Thanos and a barely out of recovery Tony was still struggling to make it through each day when a pregnancy test was delicately placed in front of him. 

Tony remembers the look in Pepper’s eyes, the fragile vulnerability, the near desperate searching of his face as she waited for him to react, looking to see if the man who had talked about his vivid dreams of a child named after an eccentric uncle still existed within the darkness cloaking their lives.

They talked long into the night and Pepper listened with tears on her cheeks as Tony told her about the chasm of grief within him, how he hurt in a way that was so incomprehensible whenever the merest thought of Peter flickered across his mind. 

A grey, gritty dawn was approaching by the time he was done. Numb and weary, he’d barely cracked a smile as Pepper took his hand and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, but he finally knew in that moment what he wanted to do; what he  _ needed _ to do to stand a chance of surviving.

Within a matter of days, they had fled the once thriving husk of the city, leaving the broken fragments of the Avengers to figure out what to do now that Thanos was dead, and began to build a simpler life. The cabin by the lake was an oasis of tranquility within the dark horror of the world, so far removed from a life Tony ever imagined for himself, and he fell into it with blind gratefulness. 

Tony called May the day after they left. He knew Happy had been in contact with her, had been the one to break the news to her about Peter while Tony snarled venom into Steve’s face, but Tony wanted to speak to her too. To say what, he didn’t know, but something almost frantic made him pick up the phone that morning and call her as he stood on the decking of the cabin and looked out at the glistening lake. 

There was no answer. 

So he drove to Queens. 

May’s eyes were puffy and red when she’d opened the door to him, her hair lank and her clothes rumpled, the very picture of someone locked in the grip of mourning. Tony had spluttered apologies, turning to leave, but a hand closing around his wrist and a soft, tear-scratched voice asking him to wait made him pause before accepting the invitation to come inside. 

There had been photo albums covering the coffee table, offering glimpses of the Parker family at different stages in their lives, and it was the page of pictures dedicated solely to a baby Peter that had captivated Tony’s attention as soon as he sat down. 

"Pepper’s pregnant."

He’d flinched the second the words left his mouth, partly for how callous it felt to say such a thing to a woman who had lost what was essentially her child, partly because he expected some sort of retribution for having something so miraculous happen to him, the man who had failed to save everyone. 

But May had smiled, a light little gasp escaping her lips as she clapped her fingers to her mouth, new tears spilling down her cheeks. 

"Can you…" Tony had eventually asked, gesturing to the pictures, "tell me about him?"

So she did. Only two stories that day, her breath catching several times at certain moments that left Tony wanting to cry with every passing minute, but he didn’t want to stop listening. 

He came back the following week. 

Then the week after that, and every week from then on.

Sometimes Pepper came with him and Tony would listen with a delicately warm feeling in his chest as she and May talked, but often it was just the two of them, swapping stories and looking at photographs, sharing the burden as the days slowly passed by, taking them further and further away from a time where Peter existed in the world. 

Then Morgan was born. 

Pepper had been so sure they were going to have a daughter; a little girl with dark hair and dark eyes, but right from the start a feeling inside Tony’s gut had told him otherwise, his dreams conjuring a rather different vision. 

And as it turned out, Morgan was exactly the way Tony dreamed he would be. 

An unruly mop of soft red hair, a nose like Tony’s and eyes so impossibly big that to look into them was like looking into whole galaxies, hypnotic and stunning even at only a few minutes old. 

Tony gazed at his baby boy that day, the very real incarnation of the dream he’d had so long ago, one that had bloomed from the seeds of possibility planted in his heart by a kid he’d never expected to care all that much for, and felt the ferocity of the sadness he’d been trying to bury since Titan take hold of him once more. 

Because for all the unbridled joy and overwhelming love Morgan’s arrival had awoken in Tony, he’d also brought a sharp flare of clarity that Tony couldn’t run from, even though deep down he’d known it all along. 

It wasn’t just Peter who died. 

It was his kid.

His  _ kid _ . 

The realisation sparked to life a new kind of mania, one that screamed failure and regret and  _ need _ ; a ferocious need to never make the same mistakes again, to take those seeds left to him by Peter and treasure them so well that they could flower and grow into something  _ good.  _

So Tony spent the first few weeks of Morgan’s life an elated and terrified mess. He would sit by Morgan’s crib and watch the little baby sleep for hours, eyes fixed on the rise and fall of his little chest, following every movement and cataloguing every sound. 

Pepper, exhausted and sore as she was, had done her best to soothe Tony’s worries, sitting up with him in the early hours, leaning her head against his back and tracing patterns on his palms as they listened to Morgan breathe.

Rhodey was there a lot too, sharing long, dark nights with him just like they had done back at college, forever sturdy and strong. Sometimes they would talk and it was in those moments that Tony would let it go a little, not enough to expel the agony but enough for Rhodey to pull him close and keep him there until the morning light broke, both of them still sitting guard of Morgan’s crib until the baby gave them reason to move. 

It was May who finally got through to Tony. 

"Peter told me once that he thought your life had been too sad," she said as they sat on the couch a few weeks after Morgan’s birth, one of her hands stroking Morgan’s little foot while he slept in the crook of her arm. "That out of anyone he knew, he thought you deserved to be happy the most."

She moved her hand over to take Tony’s, squeezing it until he met her gaze. 

"And he was right.  _ Let _ yourself be happy, Tony. Don’t miss this," May had said while nodding her head down at Morgan, "because you’ll never forgive yourself if you do. And neither would Peter."

Those words prove to be the starting point, the driving force, the beginning of Tony’s acceptance that moving on didn’t mean forgetting. 

It just means a different kind of living with it. 

And it’s a funny thing, living after dying; living after losing something so precious that it steals the life out of the souls who loved it most. 

It’s not like when Tony was  _ actually  _ dying, back when poison had been trailing paths of blackness through his blood and careening him down a pointless path of destruction that nearly drove away everybody he cared about. 

Instead it’s heavy, dragging; weighted in ways that make waking up almost impossible and requires herculean strength in every smile and valiance in every effort to not dwell on the past. 

Until suddenly, breathing no longer resembles taking a knife to the ribs and laughing isn’t immediately followed by blistering guilt; even choosing to remember with fondness instead of choking agony doesn’t feel so traitorous. 

It’s hard, but Tony chooses to live. Not just to exist in the world, but to really live; to have a life that he never expected. 

One that involves quiet mornings drinking coffee on the porch of a lakeside cabin, dozing off on the couch on Sunday afternoons, cutting crusts off ham sandwiches and hunting high and low for Morgan’s wayward stuffed bunny when it goes missing for the hundredth time. 

One that lets him witness more of Pepper’s smiles than her frowns, go for drives with Happy that don’t always need a destination, although they typically end up going to see May almost every time; lets him spend time with Rhodey and a sometimes visiting Nebula that involves nothing but warmth and no worries about betrayal or secrets. 

One that lets him break the cycle even more, destroy every inch of it and burn it completely to hell, forgoing lingering anxiety about harsh words and distant affection in favour of wrapping Morgan up in a blanket of all that Tony ever longed for his own father to be; of all the things he wished that, somehow, in the end, he could have been for Peter. 

He misses the team, the memories of days long gone by sometimes sneaking up on him sharply enough to hurt. 

He misses Peter, the unspoken love he’d felt, that he knows he’ll always feel, simmering quietly in the back of his mind throughout each and every day, a prickling reminder that sometimes overflows and drowns him during his darker dreams.

But it’s a good life, a nice life, one that he protects and nurtures for five whole years. 

Then fate beckons Tony again, her siren song stealing into every thought, every moment until he’s seeing the secrets of the universe twist together into a solution inspired by nothing more than a hunch and a glimpse of Peter’s face. Doors to the past are thrown open in more ways than one and somehow, the team becomes like family once again and there’s so much familiar camaraderie weaving them together that Tony can almost pretend it’s the good old days; the ones where Steve smiled free and easy, Bruce laughed without care and Nat’s eye rolling was the biggest giveaway for her affection for all of them. 

It’s not quite the same, not with the wounds of war peppering them in one way or another, but it’s enough; just enough to keep them fighting, pulling each other forward, pushing on towards that small glimmer of dawn on a horizon that’s been far too dark for far too long. 

And when the fight for the universe brings Peter back into the world, straight into Tony’s arms for a hug that has him throwing silent thanks up towards the charred skies, Tony vows to do all that he can to make up for lost time; to do it all differently and do it right. 

To turn all the pieces of this good life into something  _ more _ .   
  


* * *

Four weeks post battle sees Tony opening the front door of the cabin and stepping out into a pleasantly warm late October day. The sun is bright in the sky, its rays breaking through the trees in fierce streaks of decadent gold. He stretches up onto his toes, turning his face up into the gentle heat, and thinks perhaps the hoodie he’s wearing might be a bit too much. 

A soft thud comes from beneath Tony’s feet and he glances down with a raised eyebrow. He listens carefully and hears another thud, followed by what sounds like something scrabbling around beneath the decking. 

"Morgan J. Stark," he calls, "you better not be under the house again."

He waits knowingly, then glances to the left when a panel of the decking wobbles itself free from the rest. A yellow, grubby construction hat comes into view, followed by Morgan’s equally grubby face. 

"I was just doin’ research," he says a little grumpily. 

"Oh, yeah? What research?"

"About the magic thing that lives down here."

"What magic thing?" Tony asks, suspecting something to do with bugs. 

"I don’t  _ know,  _ Daddy," Morgan sighs dramatically. "That’s why I’m researchin’ it!"

Tony nods seriously, fighting the urge to laugh. "Well, Mojo, it’s time for lunch, so you best hop on outta there quick, otherwise we’ll have no choice but to find some crickets for you to eat."

"Nooo," Morgan giggles, smearing mud across the decking as he pulls himself up with a little grunt. "That’s gross!"

"Oh, come on, I thought those were your favourite," Tony chuckles, swooping down and scooping Morgan up into his arms, uncaring of the dirt rubbing into his own clothes. "Hey, what’s this for?" he asks as Morgan’s arms wrap around his neck in a tight hug, hat tumbling to the floor with a thud. 

"Just ‘cause," Morgan says, voice muffling against Tony’s collar as Tony holds him close. "Peter told me hugs don’t need a reason."

"Did he now," Tony smiles, leaning his cheek against Morgan’s messy hair, a flick of red tickling his nose. 

"Uh huh, he did," Morgan affirms, then says a little louder, "didn’t you, Peter?"

Turning in the direction that Morgan is speaking, Tony suddenly spots Peter sprawled out on one the bench swings, staring down at his phone with far too much intensity for it to be anything but a way to avoid looking over at them. 

It’s his first weekend visiting since Carol blitzed Thanos into dust and brought the rest of the world back to life. Between all the celebrating and readjustments, there’s hardly been time to breathe or fully relax, and Tony’s only been able to grab time with Peter during his flyby visits to the city. It’s always good, a relief against the weight Tony’s been balancing within the better parts of his life, even if he can see the hint of hesitancy in Peter’s eyes, like he can’t quite decide what to do or what to say. 

Like he doesn’t feel comfortable in his own life; his old but new life. 

Guilt makes Tony’s stomach lurch as he realises the insensitivity of what he’s doing, holding Morgan like this while Peter sits tucked away in the corner, like he’s something to be kept out of sight and forgotten about. 

The last time Tony properly held Peter, not including the moment during the final fight, he’d ended up with ashes on his hands and deep trails of purple bruising across the back of his shoulders, something he’d only discovered when Nebula had pointed them out a few days later as she helped with his injuries. Tony had inspected them in the grubby mirror in Quill’s quarters, tracing a trembling touch over the imprints of fingers in his skin, where the strongest of grips had held onto him as the world tumbled into a gruelling darkness that Tony had been powerless to stop. 

Since Peter’s return, Tony’s insatiable need to just  _ feel  _ this is real has led to him dishing out the physical affection wherever possible, ruffling the kid’s hair and squeezing him in one-armed hugs as often as he can, if only to check that the Peter standing there is not a vicious torture plucked from Tony’s dreams. 

It’s hardly new territory but somehow it sure feels like it, something that Tony is determined to change. He doesn’t want any more associations with grief or trauma; doesn’t want Peter to think that there are terms and conditions to how much Tony cares. 

Or that he matters less than Morgan does. 

Tony quickly presses a kiss to Morgan’s forehead whilst setting him down, then clears his throat and waits for Peter to look up. 

Peter’s gaze remains on his phone, face serious and shoulders hunched. 

"Hey, kid."

Still nothing. 

"Yooohoo, Underoos!"

Peter looks up, the frown on his face smoothing out a little when he meets Tony’s gaze. "Oh, sorry, Mister Stark, I was just - uh, what’s up?"

Tony gestures towards the cabin. "Apparently kids need feeding at least three times a day so come on, lunch is ready."

"Ooo," Morgan says eagerly, "is it sandwiches?"

"It’s nothing ‘til you wash your hands, little man," Tony says, giving him a gentle push towards the door. 

His hand comes away from Morgan’s back just as Peter walks past, already too far out of reach to pull in for a hug. Tony watches as Peter opens the door for Morgan before he looks over at Tony again. 

There must be something in the expression on Tony’s face because Peter’s eyes go slightly wide. "What’s wrong?"

For some reason, the sight of Peter standing in the doorway of the cabin, still sleep-ruffled and clad in sweatpants renders Tony lost for words. To convey the fierceness of the ache in his bones, no longer one of loss but one of love, overflowing and desperate to go somewhere, suddenly seems so impossible. 

Tony’s arms start to lift and he moves forward, deciding to forgo words in favour of action, in favour of physically soothing whatever hurt there is. 

"Peter! Come sit with me!"

Morgan’s voice immediately captures Peter’s attention and he flashes Tony a small smile as he disappears inside. 

Early days, Tony tells himself as the ache from his chest spreads into his arms, making him lower them with a frustrated sigh. It’s only early days. It’s been an adjustment for them all, and he knows that Peter must be feeling it more than anybody else.

Tony had insisted on talking, just like May had, gentle little coaxing conversations to gauge Peter’s emotions, to reassure and comfort and explain. 

To the kid’s credit, he’d held nothing back. He’d cried, celebrated, thrown up, shared phone calls with his friends that had him hysterically laughing one minute and then sobbing the next, freaked out and then slept for a solid twenty-four hours before doing the same thing all over again for almost a week. 

He smiled brightly when Tony told him about Morgan, and brighter still when the two of them finally met, grinning bashfully as Morgan hugged him tight and declared them best friends. 

And that should have been enough, but it’s not, because there’s too  _ much  _ going on behind Peter’s smiles, an aura about him that makes Tony worry to the point where it physically hurts. 

For Morgan, Tony is undefeatable, strong, the slayer of under the bed monsters and banisher of bad dreams.

He hadn’t been any of that for Peter. Even now, Tony feels helpless, useless, like there isn’t enough he can do to fix the wrongs and soothe the sorrows like he’s supposed to. 

Like he should have done before Thanos left the universe a mangled wreck, back when maintaining a bit of distance seemed more favourable than fully admitting how much he truly cared. 

But it’s different now. 

Peter is here, real and alive for Tony to love fully, proud and unfaltering instead of reluctant and constrained by self doubt or self loathing, and Tony will be damned if he doesn’t get this right, if he doesn’t somehow find a way for Peter to know that his importance extends so much further than the events of Titan and beyond. 

* * *

The rest of the weekend passes quickly, and all too soon Peter is heading back to the city. May accompanies Happy for the drive, smiling brightly as she pulls Peter close and squeezing hard enough to make him laugh. 

Morgan’s excited yell of "Aunt May, Uncle Happy!" sends Gerald running for his pen, but May is quick to bend down and scoop the boy up, tickling his sides while Peter looks on with a smile that Tony isn’t entirely convinced by. 

Tony also gets a hug, one which he accepts gladly. May’s hugs are different to anyone else’s, something about them reminding Tony of Rhodey, though he’s never been able to explain how exactly. 

May leans back to meet his gaze, hands moving to cup his shoulders. "Good time?"

"Yeah, you know," he shrugs, glancing over to where Peter appears to be helping Happy with something on his phone, Morgan standing on his tiptoes to try and see. "Still can’t quite get over the fact that he’s here."

"You and me both," May says, following his gaze. "Peter and Morgan getting along?"

"Mmhmm. Morgan is a big fan."

May’s face softens, eyes twinkling fondly. "A bit like his dad, then."

Something must happen to Tony’s face, because May frowns and gives him a little shake. "Hey, you okay?"

The hurt is back again, right in the centre of Tony’s chest, cavernous and deep. He looks over at where Peter is now crouched down, one arm loosely looped around Morgan’s waist as the younger boy leans into him, nose almost touching the screen of Peter’s phone. 

May follows his gaze and hums in understanding. 

"He’s okay, Tony," she promises, voice steady with reassurance. "A bit overwhelmed maybe, and tired, definitely tired. But he’s okay."

Tony repeats May’s words in his head as he, Pepper and Morgan bid them all goodbye; keeps them going in a steady loop of  _ he’s okay he’s okay he’s okay _ as he finally manages to pull Peter into a far too brief hug. 

"See you soon, kid."

"Yeah," Peter agrees quietly, like he doesn’t quite believe it. His forehead pushes a little more firmly into Tony’s shoulder for a moment, and then they’re parting ways once again. Tony’s gaze follows the car until it completely disappears from sight, and the ache in his chest becomes exponentially worse when it does. 

"What are you worried about?" Pepper asks later on that evening, lifting a hand to Tony’s cheek. "You’ve had this look on your face all weekend."

"I think the kid’s struggling," Tony says, closing his eyes as he leans into Pepper’s touch. "And I know we’ve talked but there’s something...he looks sad, Pep. It’s got me thinking."

"Thinking what?"

"All of this, you know, coming back to find May and Happy shacked up together is a hell of a thing on its own, but then this…" Tony makes a vague gesture in the air, "and me, Morgan...It’s so different to how it used to be."

"I don’t think Peter’s the type to get jealous, Tony."

"Not jealous," Tony says, "more like - "

"Forgotten?"

The word, even spoken by Pepper, is still harsh and cutting. It draws a sharp breath from Tony and he winces, eyes narrowing at the thought. "Yeah, something like that."

Pepper nods, her thumb rubbing a gentle pattern across his skin. "Peter will be back in two weeks for the party, won’t he? Go for a walk or something with him, talk to him."

"I don’t…" Tony clenches his jaw, tendrils of anxious heat unfurling in his veins. "How do I fix something like that, Pep? How do I make that better?"

A soft kiss brushes his brow. "You invented time travel to get him back. You’re also the father of a five year old boy. You’ll figure it out."

"That’s supposed to help?" Tony grumbles, latching onto her words and doing his best to believe them. "I can’t even stop said five year old boy from finding ways to get under the porch."

Pepper laughs. "We’ll chalk that one up to creative differences."

* * *

Unable to wait until the party, Tony calls Peter four days later. 

He paces awkwardly in the kitchen, fiddling with the faucet, jostling the spoons sitting in the little pot by the stove, shoulders hunching in anticipation at hearing Peter’s voice.

Which is sleepy when the kid finally answers. 

" _...S’up, Mis’er Stark?" _

"Hey, bud," Tony says, his words gentle as they always are for Morgan when he’s only half awake, "were you sleeping?"

_ "Mm, nah, jus’ resting my eyes,"  _ Peter grunts over what sounds like the rustling of sheets.  _ "Had a long patrol yesterday." _

Tony isn’t surprised. Peter’s nature compels him to help, so any hopes of the kid taking it easy during the first few weeks as the city tried to find its footing after all the euphoric celebrations had taken place had been quickly dashed. # _ Spideyisback!  _ had trended within five minutes of Spider-Man’s first outing after coming home, and Tony had watched with a sense of overwhelming pride and stomach churning terror as clip after clip hit the internet, showing everything from the kid somersaulting off buildings to helping people carry boxes out of moving vans. 

The more cynical part of Tony, the part that will likely never fully pull free from the darkness, wonders how much of Peter’s need to help stems from his own inability or desire to deal with what happened. Tony tries not to dwell on those sort of thoughts too much, much preferring to think that it’s because this is just what Peter does, but sometimes he can’t help but worry; worry that the traumas of the snap, the fight, the changes to the world have had more of an impact that Peter willingly lets on. 

Peter gives a rather loud yawn and Tony shakes himself free of his concerned musings.

"A friendly neighborhood Spider-Man’s work is never done, huh?"

_ "Uh huh." _

"Anything exciting?"

_ "Mm, not really. Took lots of groceries to the homeless shelters, stopped a few muggings. Knocked a guy into the Hudson by mistake but he kinda had it coming ‘cause, y’know, stealing things isn’t cool." _

Tony snorts. "Business as usual then. No wonder you’re tired."

_ "Good thing it’s Saturday." _

"Yeah, ‘cause you wouldn’t sleep in ‘til noon on a weekday, would you, kid," Tony teases, feeling almost woozy with delight as Peter snickers quietly in agreement. "Well, I’ll let you get back to it in a sec, but I wanted to let you know that you’ve got plans this weekend."

_ "I do?" _

"Sure do. Whatever you wanna do, name it and we’ll do it. Providing that it’s nothing incredibly nerdy that requires me to dress up or stand in line for hours."

_ "Okay,"  _ Peter says, sounding a bit livelier,  _ "uh, we could...oh! Maybe - " _

"Lets go to the zoo!"

The joyful cheer from the stairs cuts across Peter’s suggestion as Morgan skids into the side of Tony’s leg with an excited giggle. 

"Morgan - "

"I bet there’s lots more animals there now," the boy continues, bright eyes widening with excitement. "Maybe they have giraffes!"

Tony pulls a silent shushing face while patting Morgan on the back, nodding his head in the universal parent motion of ‘yes okay fine please just gimme a sec’. He can’t hold Morgan’s excitement against him; being a child born into a world of loss holds an odd kind of magic for those too young to remember or know what life used to be like. Much like the generations before had dreamt of meeting a living dinosaur, kids like Morgan wondered about what it would be like to see a real life giraffe up close instead of just in books and documentaries. 

"Will they let us feed them, Daddy?"

"I don’t know, Mojo," Tony mutters quickly, the urge to suddenly tear himself in two hitting him like a punch to the stomach, "Uh, sorry, Pete, what were you gonna - "

_ "Oh, sorry, Mister Stark, Ned’s calling me, I gotta go! _

The call ends, Tony’s answering plea to wait dying on his tongue as he gazes up at the ceiling, Morgan still clamped to his leg and a hollow feeling settling inside him. Peter’s words rebound inside his head, the desperate rush in which they’d been spoken, so quick to end their conversation without considering how lame the excuse sounded.

"Is Peter okay, Daddy?’

"Yeah," Tony says automatically, the lie stinging his tongue. 

He hears Morgan’s feet scuff the floor, socks rasping quietly . "...Are  _ you _ okay?"

"Yeah," Tony croaks again, lifting a hand to rub at the back of Morgan’s head, "yeah, kiddie, I’m fine."

He’s not, and he knows that Morgan can sense it from the way the boy tucks himself in tighter against his leg. 

"It’s just…"

The lilt of quiet concern in Morgan’s voice coaxes Tony’s attention away from the ceiling. "What?" he asks, looking into his son’s earnest little face, eyes catching on the way Morgan’s mouth quirks thoughtfully as he stares right back. "It’s just what, Mojo?"

"You look sad, like you used to sometimes," Morgan hugs Tony’s leg properly with a firm squeeze. "I don’t like it."

Like an old friend stepping through the front door without knocking, guilt sits itself down somewhere around Tony’s sternum, making his throat ache. 

This isn’t fair. It’s not supposed to be like this. 

Peter’s home, he’s  _ alive _ , and yet somehow he still feels so far out of Tony’s reach, blocked off by all the things they’re not saying to each other, all the things they should have talked about by now but haven’t. 

Tony sighs wearily, heart feeling sore, wondering just when the universe is going to cut him a damn break. 

"Don’t want you to be sad."

"Hey," Tony crouches down so that he and Morgan are eye to eye, "I’m not sad, baby boy," he lies, sweeping some of Morgan’s hair away from his forehead whilst fixing a smile onto his face. "I’m just...trying to work something out, that’s all."

Morgan’s expression clears a little. "Like that night when we had juice pops after bedtime?"

"You still haven’t told Mommy about that, right?" Tony whispers loudly, throwing a dramatic glance over his shoulder that makes Morgan laugh. "Yeah, pal, a bit like that night."

"Maybe we should have some now. It might help."

The glint in Morgan’s eyes is all Pepper, mischievous and irresistable, not to be denied. 

Tony squints playfully at him, the pressure of guilt letting up just enough. "You think so, huh? Guess we better find out."

He’s halfway through spreading out the collection of juice pops on the kitchen counter, lining them up like a rainbow for Morgan to peruse, when FRIDAY announces that he has a message. 

"Take your pick, kiddie," he tells an eager Morgan, helping the boy scramble up onto his chair to get a good view. "Little ears around, FRI, so I’ll check it out on screen."

_ "Got it, boss." _

Leaving Morgan to the dilemma of whether raspberry is the better choice over blueberry, Tony heads into the living room and plucks his phone off the coffee table. His breath snags sharply when he spots the name sitting above the little bubble of words on the screen. 

**Underoos -** **_so what time we going to the zoo?_ **

The relief is so strong that Tony actually sinks into the couch, phone clutched so tightly in his hands it’s a wonder that it doesn’t snap in half. 

This is a chance, a life saver being thrown into choppy waters that Tony fully intends to grab and hold onto with every ounce of strength he has. 

Because he will  _ fix _ this. 

The scent of blueberry suddenly makes itself known and he looks over to see Morgan standing at the end of the couch, cheeks already splattered with melted blue ice. 

"I picked you out the red one," he declares, holding the treat out with his unsticky hand. 

"Thanks, Mojo," Tony says, the weight in his chest lessening even more so as he accepts the treat, the plan for a perfect day out with his kids already taking shape in his mind.

It’s gonna be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahhhh I made Morgan a boy and made Tony reach ultimate worried dad levels - what can I say.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Chapter 2 is written and will be up in the next few days. Kind comments and kudos appreciated <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kudos and wonderful comments, they've made me so happy as I've been such a nervous wreck over this fic haha. Here's some more feeeeels. Thanks for reading!

It’s  _ kinda  _ okay. 

Peter meets them on Saturday morning outside the bustling entrance to the zoo, the smallest of smiles on his face as he gives a very over excited Morgan a hug. Tony gets one too but it’s fleeting and barely allows him the chance to return it properly before Peter’s pulling away. 

"It’s pretty busy," Peter says, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. "Guess a bunch of animals showed up again."

"Giraffes!" Morgan yells, making both Tony and Peter wince. "I wanna see the giraffes!"

"Let’s get going then," Tony ushers the two of them forward, adjusting his sunglasses and hat as they mix in with the stream of people heading inside. 

It’s another nice day so the place is crowded, more than Tony remembers it ever being during past visits with Morgan. His eyes track the vast array of faces that pass by, noticing no difference to give away those who remained and those who had returned, for every person seems to be carrying some kind of hyper energy that leaves them wide eyed and almost frazzled with nervous joy. 

As they wait in line to pay for entry, Tony looks on as Peter nods and asks indulgent questions for every one of Morgan’s eager exclamations, looking for all the world like the doting big brother within their little trio. 

But there’s a sheen to Peter’s shadow-rimmed eyes, something pained and distant that Tony can barely stand to look at, though he plasters a smile on his face when Peter glances at him. 

Tickets paid for and a map of the zoo obtained because Morgan always insists on having one, they make their way inside. Morgan snags one of Tony’s hands and then one of Peter’s, linking them together and swinging back and forth happily as he shouts, "Look! There’s the reptile house!"

"What do you think, kid?" Tony asks Peter. "Wanna check out the scalies?"

''Pretty sure that’s an offensive term for reptiles, Mister Stark," Peter says as a way of confirmation, rolling his eyes playfully. 

"Oh, well  _ excuuuse _ me. I’m sorry, my knowledge of wildlife only extends to mutated spiders and whatever the hell is living in the dirt beneath my house."

"Lots of worms and centipedes."

"Did the budding entomologist himself tell you that?" Tony jerks his head at Morgan as the boy skips ahead a little. 

"He showed me the box he keeps beneath his bed. He’s...got a lot of bugs in there."

Tony groans loudly. "Yeah, yeah I know all about that box. You know how many times I’ve woken up in the night and stepped on something wriggly on my way to the bathroom?  _ Far  _ too many, kid."

"That’s gross," Peter laughs, a husky sound that doesn’t quite hold as much brightness as it usually does, but it still hits Tony like a burst of sunshine. 

"You’re telling me. Should have known that adding those stories about super spiders to the whole bath, book and bed routine would have some kind of terrible effect."

Tony expects to get another laugh or a smile at that even though he feels as though he’s stepping on mighty tender ground, but he’s left wanting when Peter curls in on himself, arms folding across his chest and a grimace tugging at his features. 

"Kid, are you - "

"Daddy! Peter, hurry up!"

Tony winces, trying and failing to catch Peter’s eye before waving at Morgan. "Coming, pal."

Peter remains hunched and knotted as they wander through the reptile house. It’s uncomfortably warm and Tony quickly removes his jacket, tucking it over his arm along with Morgan’s, but Peter keeps his on and seems to be burrowing further into it with every minute. 

"Wow! Look at that alligator!" Morgan cries as he plasters himself up against the glass of an enclosure, pointing excitedly to the ancient looking beast blinking slowly at them from the other side. 

Tony jumps when Peter pulls on his sleeve and says, "I think his friend misses him," 

He points to another section of the enclosure where something resembling a giant newt paws at the glass separating it from the alligator. 

"Looks more like it wants to eat him if you ask me," Tony says. 

That earns him an elbow to the ribs, a move that feels as welcome as a hug right now. 

"He’s clearly pining, Mister Stark."

"Yeah," Tony says as the creature eyes the alligator with intent, "pining for something to chomp on. What even is that thing anyway?"

"A giant salamander," Morgan says helpfully, tongue twisting awkwardly around the word and mixing up the letters. 

"Oh, wonderful, a giant swamp monster," Tony mutters with a wrinkle of his nose.

"Maybe you can ask to take it home and put it in the lake," Peter suggests, smiling innocently as Tony throws a glare at him. "Keep it as a pet."

Morgan gasps and turns his wide gaze onto Tony. "Can we?"

Tony feels his mouth twitch as he continues to glare at Peter, desperate to keep his face straight even as the kid’s smile turns into something so close to a shit-eating grin, delicate but very, wonderfully real. Suddenly, Tony feels like he’s within true touching distance of what his dreams have taunted him with. 

There’s a sheen of sweat on Peter’s forehead and the purple circles beneath his eyes stand out more prominently within the glow of the fluorescent lighting, telling tales to Tony about how much the kid isn’t sleeping or relaxing, but for now all Tony can truly focus on is the fact that Peter’s smiling at him, open and free and  _ just like he used to.  _

"This is your fault," Tony accuses Peter, pointing in Morgan’s direction. ‘’Completely your fault.’’

Peter gives a small, unrepentant shrug. "Hey, you might have a better chance of seeing him in the dark on your way to the bathroom."

The sass is like music to Tony’s ears. It sounds about as magic and strangely beautiful as the first few days of Morgan’s newborn fussing just for how much Tony wants to hear it. 

Hope flares in Tony’s gut, fluttering and fragile, like it did all those years ago when the sounds of hammer against iron fell silent within the confines of that dark cave in Afghanistan and a mask of armour rested in his hands. 

And it’s different to the hope he’d felt in those final moments of the battle, all ferocious and fire and fierce refusal to do anything but win. It’s softer, quieter, the kind that wants to break free, expose the weary but no less willing mechanics of Tony’s heart so that Peter can see; can finally understand that there’s no contest or doubt, just a wide open space for him like there always has been. 

But just as this developing snapshot of all that he wants begins to take shape, the grin on Peter’s face turning gentle and shy as he studies what can only be a particularly raw look on Tony’s, Morgan’s excited shrieking has them both looking away. 

"Look!"

"Uh..." Peter says warily as the alligator, teeth fully on show, carries on ignoring the angry salamander and pokes its snout eagerly against the glass right where Morgan’s face is. 

"Seriously, Mojo," Tony moves closer and tugs Morgan away, subconscious fear overruling the rational knowledge that the glass is indeed perfectly capable of preventing any escape attempts. "What is it with you and the weird and gruesome stuff, huh? What’s wrong with a nice fluffy bunny?"

"But it’s  _ so _ cool."

Tony gives both the salamander and alligator another glance. "Unpleasant is what I’d call them. Hey, Pete, what do you - kid?"

There’s no sign of Peter. 

Not a single glimpse of him within the sea of people moving around them.

Tony closes his eyes and inhales sharply as the guilt twines through his ribs this time, pulling tight enough to hurt. He’d seen it all over the kid’s face, the reluctance and the unhappiness undeniable and yet Tony had tried all the same, unwilling to accept the failure he knew was coming.

He’d spent five years wrestling with the shadow of helplessness that had remained after Thor took Thanos’ head, beating it back just enough to ignore, but now it’s a fully fledged spectre once again, and it hurts as much as it used to. 

A little hand slips into his and Tony immediately holds on.

"Where’d Peter go?" Morgan asks. "Did the alligator scare him?"

Before Tony can answer, his phone chimes. He fishes it out of his pocket, heart swooping with anticipation for the name he somehow already knows will be on the screen. 

**Underoos - sorry spidey stuff**

Tony immediately senses the lie within the words. Call it intuition, call it experience, call it whatever, Tony knows that it’s a lie.

Anger sparks to life, offended and bitter, and it snatches viciously at Tony’s lungs, making him sigh roughly.  A voice in the back of his head, the one that goes hand in hand with the shadow, wonders if this is how Peter had felt before, way back when Tony had kept him as far away as possible, favouring distance and transparent pretences over getting too close. 

"Daddy?" Morgan tugs his hand, then pushes up on his toes, Tony automatically leaning down to hear him whisper, "Is it spider stuff?"

‘Spider stuff’ had been a key phrase within the bedtime stories Tony had told almost every night since Morgan could understand, a child friendly term among many within the action packed narratives Tony weaved. 

"Yeah," Tony says, patting Morgan’s shoulder, "yeah, that’s where he went."

Morgan, so full of adoration for both his favourite superhero and his favourite friend, giggles excitedly. 

"Can we go see Peter when we finish here? I wanna know how he saved the day this time!"

That’s how it always worked out in the stories. No matter what, Tony had made sure there was a happy ending. Within the cosy confines of Morgan’s bedroom walls, Peter had lived on, a part of their lives if only for a little while, a goodnight lullaby that Morgan would drift away on with a smile on his face, leaving Tony to wipe an escaping tear away before he pressed a kiss to Morgan’s forehead. 

He kisses it now, a placating move that serves as some kind of answer in itself, and it’s enough for Morgan to not ask anymore questions, much to Tony’s relief. 

They continue to make their way around the zoo, dutifully looking at each and every animal. The amount of people walking around alongside them is both wonderful and suffocating, another reminder of just how much had actually been taken out of the world five years ago. Every zookeeper they spot has a slightly overwhelmed look on their face, reverence and fractured happiness in their eyes as they tend to the animals that they’d clearly missed. The emotion lacing the air seems to pass onto Morgan, who immediately cries happy tears into Tony’s shoulders when they finally see the giraffes. Tony comforts him with gentle whispers and rubs to his back, tuning out his own inner turmoil in favour of being in the moment; of being present in the way Peter had taught him but he’d never fully understood until after Peter was gone. 

It’s early afternoon by the time they head for home, the excitement of the day finally weighing on Morgan and making him yawn loudly and clutch his new stuffed giraffe close to his face. 

"Can we go see Peter now?" he asks lazily as Tony helps him into the car. 

Tony’s saved from answering by the ringing of his phone. He asks FRIDAY to patch it through to the car as he slides into his own seat, grabbing his seatbelt just as Happy says,  _ "Where are you right now?" _

"Hello to you too."

"Hi, Uncle Happy," Morgan calls softly through another yawn. 

_ "Hey, squirt,"  _ Happy replies, tone softening noticeably for a moment before returning to its usual gruffness as he addresses Tony again.  _ "Where are you?" _

"Heading home from the zoo," Tony says slowly, giving the dashboard a suspicious glance like he would if Happy were actually standing in front of him. "Why?"

_ "I got a dumbass kid in my backseat who looks paler than Casper the ghost right now. Found him in the bathroom at home throwing his guts up and complaining of a headache." _

The guilt rises up once more, black and toxic. Tony thinks back to earlier, thinks of the pained grimaces on Peter’s pale face and the way his posture had seemed so insecure but had actually been likely a way of trying to fight off his nausea. 

"Sick." he mutters, heart doing a belly flop into the pit of his stomach. "He’s sick."

The relief is terrible, because nobody should be glad for someone feeling sick, but for Tony it may as well be the greatest gift in the world compared to what he’d been imagining, like  the kid bailing because he didn’t want to be anywhere near Tony. 

_ "Anyway, May said - no, kid, in the bag, not out the - right, good, uh, just, deep breaths yeah?" _ Happy’s voice is a cross between concerned and frustrated, though it lilts way more towards the former than it ever used to.  _ "Do you want me to pull - okay, no, that’s fine, you just lie down there." _

"Happy," Tony says, sounding sharper than he means to. 

_ "Right, sorry. I’m bringing him to the cabin. May’s swamped at work and you’ve got the good painkillers and he definitely needs ‘em before this turns into one of his sensory overload episodes or a migraine or something. She told me to tell you ‘look after our boy’ which was definitely said with threatening implications, just so you’re - oh, kid, hang on, there’s another bag here - " _

Tony’s head tips into the back of the seat and he screws his eyes closed, Happy’s muffled cursing falling quiet to the chant of ‘our boy’ whirling around his mind. The relief begins to congeal, festers into something bitter. May’s trust feels undeserved, as does the equal footing he’s been given to stand on simply by the use of the word ‘our’. 

He opens his eyes and looks to the side as little fingers start patting reassurances against his sleeve. Morgan peers back at him, wide-eyed and curious, like he’s looking straight into Tony’s head and can see each and every cog turning over, mechanisms stuttering with worry. 

Their fingers wind together, Tony’s hand completely overlapping Morgan’s as Happy curses over the line.  _ "I’m probably about half an hour ahead of you so I’ll meet you at yours. May said she’ll call when she finishes her shift." _

The call ends, the background noise of Peter retching somehow lingering in the instant quiet that follows.

Morgan tugs impatiently on Tony’s hand. "Come  _ oooon _ , we gotta go look after Peter." 

"Right, yeah," Tony nods, gunning the engine properly into life, a strong resolve barging through the melancholy and taking as strong of a position as it can. 

Goddamnit, he  _ will  _ fix this. 

He glances at Morgan again, returning the sweet, sleepy smile his son gives him. "Let’s go home."

* * *

"Nice of you to finally show up."

Tony gives Happy a glare as he steps through the front door, a barely awake Morgan slumped in his arms. "Where’s Peter?"

"Dosed up and sleeping upstairs, feeling pretty shi - uh, not great, by all accounts."

"Great," Tony sighs, setting Morgan down on the couch. "Wake up, pal. We’re home."

"Peter?" Morgan immediately asks, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

"Oh, so that’s how it is," Pepper laughs as she walks out of the kitchen. "Guess we have definitive proof of who’s the favourite around here."

"I’m gonna help take care of him," Morgan tells her, waving his giraffe around. "He can even share Jake with me."

"I think you best let your dad go up first, honey," Pepper says, sharing a meaningful glance with Tony. "How about you help me put the toppings on the pizzas for dinner and you can go see Peter a little later?"

"Okay," Morgan sighs, throwing his own look over at Tony that is far less sympathetic and more threatening, as much as a floppy haired five year old can be at least. "You promise I can help?"

"Promise," Tony says. "I’ll take extra cheese on mine, please.  _ Extra,"  _ he emphasises, pointing a finger, "not leftover from what you’ve scoffed in the assembling process, capiche?"

Morgan beams and runs off into the kitchen, leaving Pepper a chance to smile softly at Tony’s grateful murmur of thanks before she follows. 

"You gonna be alright?" Happy asks as Tony heads for the stairs. 

"Yeah," Tony raises an eyebrow, "why wouldn’t I be?"

The look on Happy’s face shifts into something fondly exasperated. "You think I can’t see all the angsting you’re doing?"

_ "Angsting?  _ Jesus, what are you, twelve?"

Happy flips him off, a well used gesture that makes them both grin despite the situation. 

"All this time and you think I don’t know you? I’ve been able to spot your bullshit ever since I started rescuing you from club toilets back in the 90’s."

"Okay, that happened twice, and on both occasions - " Tony stops, shoulders slumping as Happy raises an eyebrow. "Whatever it is you wanna say, Hogan, spit it out so I can go take care of my kid."

"That right there. You’re saying it like you’re about to march to the gallows, not look after a sick teenager."

Happy steps forward, clapping a hand onto Tony’s shoulder. "He’s  _ okay.  _ Still talks about everything and anything, still dresses up as a bug and zooms around the city helping everyone and their grandmother." His hand squeezes gently. "Still thinks the world of you."

It’s hardly the first conversation they’ve had about Peter over the last five years. Tony still remembers the stricken look on Happy’s face when he’d burst into Tony’s room in the compound, eyes wide with horror at the sight of Tony’s emaciated state. Pepper had been the one to explain, voice soft as she spoke Peter’s name, and Tony’s heart had splintered even further as he watched the grief and regret twist Happy’s features, darken his gaze, downturn his mouth and pull his posture into a defeated hunch that didn’t seem to fully straighten for a long time after that. 

They had danced around the unspoken pain for weeks, eyes meeting knowingly every so often as the world continued to spiral with misery and confusion until one afternoon, as they stood in the doorway of Peter’s bedroom with empty boxes in hand, Happy said, "I keep listening to his old voicemails."

"You still have those?"

"Only a couple."

Tony remembers the sound of Happy’s fingers scratching into the cardboard, the clicking of his throat as he swallowed back emotion, staring almost angrily at all that was left of Peter’s existence. 

"He didn’t deserve this."

"No," Tony had whispered, skin itching with the memory of dust, "no he didn’t."

The quiet understanding that had threaded around them that day had endured through many more terrible days, holding steady like everything about their friendship, and Tony feels that same steadiness now as he and Happy look at each other. 

"Go do your thing," Happy says, giving him a gentle shove. "And stop angsting."

"I hate that word. I wish Rhodey were here, he would never sink to such levels."

"Yeah, right," Happy snorts as he heads into the kitchen, leaving Tony to jog up the stairs and along to the spare room that has always unofficially been Peter’s. 

The door is slightly ajar, the quickly fading afternoon light filtering through the gap from the windows. Tony eases it open and pokes his head in first, eyes landing on the bed in the centre of the room. Upon it lies Peter, half buried beneath the covers and snoring softly, one hand dangling close to a bucket sitting just below the edge of the bed. 

He looks so young, Tony thinks as he stands and stares; so free of all that’s ever happened to him, like it’s only ever been a bad dream. 

Treading softly in steps well practiced during late night escapes from Morgan’s room, Tony makes his way over, only pausing to grab the chair from the small desk in the corner and placing it carefully beside Peter, right by the currently empty bucket. He sits down with a sigh, toeing off his shoes and shucking his jacket onto the back of the chair. 

Like he can somehow sense that Tony is there, Peter wriggles sluggishly with a soft groan, the dangling hand flailing a little in Tony’s general direction. Tony leans forward and carefully places his palm against Peter’s forehead, letting out a sigh of relief when he finds what seems to only be a mild temperature. 

"Guess those drugs are already doing their job, huh, kid," he whispers, unable to resist tracing his thumb across a cheekbone as he pulls his hand away. 

Peter’s right eye suddenly snaps open. 

"Whoa, hey, hey there," Tony says, soft and low, "if it isn’t my favourite young adult. How you feeling?"

Peter blinks a few times, features scrunching up in clear confusion as he peers at Tony, then buries his face into the pillow, grumbling something unintelligible that trails off into a snore. 

Tony smiles, pressure mounting in his chest at the realisation that he gets to do this again. It’s probably unhealthy and bordering on macabre to wish to have the chance to sit by a kid’s bedside as they weather the worst of a sickness or ailment, but even before Peter was gone, Tony had found that he never minded it too much. 

He thinks back to last year when a vicious bout of bronchitis had confined a very miserable Morgan to his bed; to the winter before that when both Morgan and Pepper had gone down with a stomach bug that had Tony going through sheets and washcloths with furious speed; to the night he stayed up with a snotty baby Morgan, arms cradling his feverish little body as they waited for the worst to pass. 

Without Peter’s presence in his life, without those first unknowing steps into the world of parenting, brought on by soothing hands for painful injuries and awkward but sincere words of comfort in all the times Peter had needed them, Tony knows that things would have been very different. 

The pressure in his chest whittles into something a little sharper as Peter stirs again, eyes opening and squinting at Tony. 

Tony can’t resist reaching out to touch his shoulder. "You okay, kid?"

Peter lifts his head sharply, mouth gaping wide in disbelief. 

" _ Iron Man? _ "

Tony raises his eyebrows. "...Yeah?"

"Holy shiiiit…" Peter slurs. A gleeful grin spreads across his face and suddenly, Tony’s being yanked forward into a squeezing hug, one that he returns instinctively even as the bones of his spine creak ominously. 

"Pete," he groans, "ease up a little on the spider strength there, would ya?"

Peter hums happily but he seems to understand, relaxing the embrace until he’s somehow melting against Tony, arms hanging loosely towards the ground and a snore skimming across Tony’s neck. He doesn’t protest much besides a confused grumble as Tony guides him back into the bed, leaning back to see both of Peter’s eyes blinking sluggishly at the ceiling. 

"Mm...moth."

"...Come again?"

"Moooth," Peter hums grouchily, a hand whirling upwards. "There."

Tony tilts his head and sure enough, there’s a moth fluttering around the lampshade, bouncing gently into it as it lazily flaps its wings. 

"Pretty."

"You think so?" Tony returns his attention to Peter. "Always found them a bit creepy myself."

Peter gives a disgruntled whine just as there’s a knock on the door. 

"Is he okay?" Morgan whispers loudly, stepping into the room. 

"He’s not so bad," Tony says, watching as Peter’s eyes drift shut once again. "The medicine makes him a bit dopey, that’s all."

Morgan clambers onto Tony’s lap, bumping his face with Jake the giraffe as he fidgets into a comfy position. He settles back against Tony’s chest, free hand coming up to stroke at Tony’s jaw, fingers playing softly with the edges of his goatee. It’s something Morgan’s done ever since he was small, a silent search for tactile comfort. They cut out the gummy cheek chomping a long time ago, but Tony’s still glad for little moments like this, cosy and quiet and gentle. 

Before all the madness, Peter had developed a habit of leaning, shoulder pressing into Tony’s side whenever they stood or sat close together. Tony had been dumbstruck by it to begin with, torn between panic and accepting, the already fractured walls of his inner defences breaking apart more and more every time. But pretty soon it became second nature for Tony’s arm to curl around Peter, hand rubbing at the curve of his shoulder or cupping the back of his neck, his fingers playing with the ends of the curls resting there. 

Tony’s fingers twitch with the memory, the phantom brush of softness tickling his skin. He hooks his arms around Morgan in a snug squeeze and sighs heavily. 

"Mommy says Peter’s powers will make him better," Morgan says. "Does that mean he’ll be able to play with me?"

"Not sure, little man," Tony whispers, tipping his forehead to rest against the back of Morgan’s head. "He’ll probably need to rest."

The bedcovers rustle again. 

"Hi, Peter," Morgan says, leaning as far forward as he can within Tony’s arms. "Will you play with me tomorrow when you’re feeling better?"

"Morgan - "

"’Cause we can do whatever you wanna do!" Morgan reassures, ignoring the soft warning in Tony’s words. "You can show me how high you can climb trees, or we can play with Gerald - "

" _ Morgan _ ," Tony hisses, using the tone that he hates, the one he thinks makes him sound far too much like Howard. Pepper’s always dismissed his fears about it but Tony still hears it, hates the way it makes Morgan turn and fix him with such a mournful gaze, his mouth flipping into a sad, confused pout. 

"But Daddy - "

Peter lurches upright in the bed suddenly and Tony gets another faceful of Jake the giraffe as Morgan jumps. 

"Pete? You alright?

"Do you wanna come play now?" Morgan asks hopefully. 

Peter’s eyes slowly trail over them, expression quickly morphing from thoughtful to vastly unhappy as he murmurs, "Mister Stark..."

War breaks out inside Tony, the plunging of his heart doing battle against the wrench in his lungs at the misery in Peter’s voice and the shattered look of hurt on his pale face. It’s all there, clear as day and totally undeniable, a real manifestation of everything Tony has been losing sleep and aching over for so many nights. 

The urge to throw up is suddenly overwhelming and Peter appears to have the same feeling because the next thing Tony knows, Morgan is letting out a cry as Peter pitches over the side of the bed and hurls into the bucket. 

"Shit," Tony curses, quickly helping Morgan down and moving over to the bed, pausing only for a moment before sitting down and taking hold of Peter’s shoulders, keeping him steady as he heaves. "Easy, buddy, you’re alright."

Tony looks up at a worriedly hovering Morgan. "Better go find Mommy, pal. Hey, how about you eat my pizza for me, yeah?"

"But...but I gave you extra cheese," Morgan says forlornly just as Peter retches again. 

"I know," Tony keeps his gaze on Morgan as he moves a hand to rub Peter’s back, "I know, Mojo and I’m sorry but I gotta take care of Peter right now."

The desire to tear himself in two makes itself known again. Bitterness curdles in Tony’s gut as the disappointment plays out on Morgan’s face, his blue eyes shining far too brightly. With a wobbly sigh, the boy bends down to scoop up Jake the giraffe from the floor and heads out the door, head bowed far lower than Tony’s ever seen it before. 

"Fuck," Tony whispers. 

"Morgan," Peter groans, shuddering violently, "s-sad - "

"It’s okay, kid," Tony squeezes Peter's shoulder, trying to project some kind of reassurance and care, "it’ll be okay, I promise, kiddo."

Peter moans mournfully, heaves once more, then collapses onto his front. "Mister Stark - "

"Let’s get you comfy, huh," Tony says, desperate to do something,  _ anything  _ that might mean he isn’t a total and complete failure at taking care of someone. "C’mon, sit back here."

He only gets a muffled sound of protest as he carefully manhandles Peter back onto the bed, adjusting ragdoll-limp arms and fixing the covers. An attempt to slide off the bed is halted by a hand curling weakly into his shirt. 

"Not going anywhere, kid," Tony promises, patting the hand before gently prising it off. "Just gonna go dispose of the evidence."

He’s just finishing washing the bucket out in the bath when his phone rings. Leaving the bucket to drain, he leans wearily against the glass door of the shower and answers with, "My second favourite Parker, how are you?"

May’s voice is warm as she replies, " _ Exhausted and craving chinese food." _

"Long day?"

_ "Very long, but hey, I’ve got it better than a whole lot of other people so I can’t complain too much. How are you?" _

"I think you’re asking about the wrong person there. Are you confused? Have you been at the good stuff in the store cupboard?"

May laughs loudly and Tony can’t help but grin. 

_ "As much as it pains me to say, you’ve somehow become my best friend over the last few years, so I’m kinda obligated to care about you." _

"Why, May Parker, the words coming out of your mouth right now."

_ "How Pepper is willingly married to you, I’ll never know." _

"I’ve been told I’m rather handsome."

_ "Sure, if you like the whole grungy mechanic look." _

Tony snorts, "I’ll have you know - "

_ "Yes, yes, I know, you look very dapper in a suit, but when was the last time you wore one of those?" _

They laugh together and a bit of tension shakes free from Tony’s shoulders. 

_ "How’s our boy?" _

"Okay. Pretty out of it but not much of a fever so with any luck, he should be feeling okay by tomorrow."

_ "Uh huh. Does that mean you’ll finally talk to him instead of angsting?" _

"Angst - _god_ , is this what you and Happy are like now? One of those couples that have a  _ thing?" _

_ "All couples have a thing, Tony." _

"Well, your _thing_ is annoying."

_ "Tony. He’s still Peter. Yeah he’s carrying a hell of a lot on his shoulders, but then he already was before the world got ripped to shreds. He still loves you." _

"But Morgan - "

_ "Adores Peter and completely idolises you. That little boy thinks you put the stars in the sky, Tony. You’ve got two peas in a pod right there. Things WILL be okay, I promise. So try to stop worrying so much." _

"This is a conspiracy," Tony murmurs, throat tightening, "You and Happy are out to get me."

_ "You’re an idiot. Give Peter a kiss for me and make sure he drinks plenty of water, you know how terrible he is at that. I’ll call you guys tomorrow." _

"Later, bestie."

_ "You’re such an ass." _

Tony pads back into Peter’s room, clean bucket in hand, May’s words looping over and over in his mind. It’s not like he and Peter never used to talk, but this feels like setting sail on turbulent waters, rough and uncharted and full of potential for irreparable disaster. So much could go wrong, but then again, how is this any better?

He leans down to kiss a sleeping Peter on the forehead, pulling away with a softly whispered, "That’s from your aunt, kiddo," and settles himself on the bed, leaning against the headboard with a weary groan. The chair is still right there, he could easily sit in it and keep watch, but it still somehow feels too far away. Peter seems to agree, if the way he shuffles closer and leans his forehead against Tony’s hip is anything to go by. 

It’s second nature for Tony to rest his hand on Peter’s hair. He’s been here before, a silent sentinel by Peter’s side for one reason or another. It almost surprises Tony how surely he moves his fingers, like all of this is nothing of consequence at all; like everything is as it should be. 

Darkness cloaks the room as Tony allows himself to drift for a while on this soft current of quiet fantasy, body poised and senses turned into every little move that Peter makes. 

He doesn’t quite jump when a strong hand suddenly grips his forearm sometime later and sticks tight, merely shushes Peter softly before the kid can properly open his eyes. 

It’s an odd feeling to miss someone when they’re close by. Tony’s had plenty of experience of it in his time and it’s never been a particular concept he’s managed to unravel. In college, during the nights where his bones felt sore and his very skin screamed for solace, he missed Rhodey even as he slept mere feet away in a bed on the other side of the room. When poison laced his blood and the end of his life seemed imminent, he burned for Pepper and all that they could have and share together. The day he and Steve found a quiet moment to talk amongst the chaos of their lives, a pair of pens resting on the table between them and the divide in their friendship so wide and shattering, Tony wished that it could have been as simple as a handshake to keep it all intact. 

And now, Tony can say that he knows what it’s like to miss Peter from both near and far away. 

"I’m sorry, kid," he finds himself whispering, fingers still twirling familiar paths through Peter’s hair. "I’m sorry."

His heart constricts when Peter shuffles closer, a weak cough escaping him as he readjusts his head on the pillow. Even in the darkness Tony doesn’t miss Peter’s eyes suddenly blinking open with more lucidity than before, sleepily looking at Tony as if to check he’s still there. 

"You okay, bud?" 

Peter nods minutely and then rolls over just as the lamp by the door flicks on, casting gentle brightness into the room and revealing Pepper and a pajama clad Morgan standing in the doorway. 

"How are you doing?" Pepper asks gently. 

Tony wiggles a hand in the air with a small grimace. "Not bad." He looks at Morgan, noticing the book clutched in his hand. "Whatcha got there, little man?"

Morgan tucks a thumb into his mouth as he holds it up. "Bedtime story."

"You’re much better at the voices than me," Pepper says, a suggestive tint to her words as she raises her eyebrows at Tony. 

"Well, I don’t like to brag," Tony plays along, "but I do a pretty good Mister Centipede, right, Mojo?"

Morgan nods just as Peter props himself up on his elbows, twisting his head to regard Tony with a bemused frown. "Mister Stark? S’goin’ on?"

"Guess you burnt through your meds," Tony sighs. "How you feeling?"

"Uh," Peter glances over at Pepper and Morgan, a sheepish hunch tugging at his shoulders, "not amazing. Hey, sorry I had to miss the visit to the zoo."

Morgan’s response is immediate. "It’s okay. I missed you though. Daddy didn’t like the bugs."

"Hey," Tony protests, "I think I did okay."

Peter sinks back into the pillows, covering his still far too pale face with his hands. "Did...did I throw up?"

"Oh, yeah," Pepper says with a laugh. "A hell of a lot. Poor Happy was looking a bit green by the time we got you in bed.''

"Oh my god. I am  _ so - " _

"You can make up for it by getting some more sleep," Pepper says, "and supervising these two until you do. God knows how many bedtime stories I’ve had to break up for being too rowdy."

"Yeah, Peter, listen to the story with me!" Morgan cheers, all previous traces of hurt feelings seemingly gone as he rushes forward and scrambles across the bed, kneeing Tony in the leg for good measure before settling on his lap. "You’ll like it - there’s a spider in it."

Peter rolls over again, stretching out completely on his side and regarding the cover of the book with a dozy smile, one that makes Tony’s heart lurch. "Been ages since I heard this one. They fly off in the peach, right?"

"Shhh," Morgan says loudly. "Daddy doesn’t know what happens."

"That’s right," Tony nods, winking at Peter who smiles wider. "So where did we get up to, Mojo?"

Morgan’s tongue sticks out as he flicks through the pages until he finds where they left off. He hands the book to Tony and burrows into his chest. Pepper grabs the blanket from the back of the chair in the corner, throws it over them, whispers, "have fun," and leaves them to it. 

"Why don’t you fill Peter in on what’s happened so far?" Tony suggests to Morgan, tilting his chin to avoid being bumped by the boy’s head as he nods enthusiastically. 

"So there’s this little boy, James, and his mommy and daddy get eaten up by a rhino, so he has to live with his mean aunties who are SO MEAN - "

Peter’s nods along as he listens, humming interestedly in tandem with Tony at the appropriate moments. 

" - but then he gets inside the peach and there’s lots of HUGE BUGS inside - "

"Uh huh…" Peter says, a hint of laughter clear in his voice that makes Tony smirk. 

"- so they FINALLY manage to escape and - "

"And that’s where we are now," Tony finishes and clears his throat, adopting a raspy tone as he slips into character, pointedly ignoring Peter’s sleepy chuckle as he says,  _ "’I REFUSE to show myself out of doors in my bare feet,’ the Centipede said. ‘I have to get my boots on again first."’ _

Tony reads for a long time, the pages rustling repeatedly as he turns them over and over until he feels Morgan start to slouch heavily against his chest and one of Peter’s ankles sluggishly hooking around his own like a funny little hug. For a moment, a long and perfect moment, Tony kids himself that this is how it’s always been, how it always will be; nothing but the comfort and the love with not a damn thing to carve it to pieces and split it at the seams. 

He doesn’t pause in his storytelling until he’s sure both Peter and Morgan are asleep, and it’s only then that he realises that someone else is in the room, sitting in the doorway with her back pressed against the frame and a small smile on her face. 

"Have you been there the entire time?"

"Just the last fifteen minutes," Pepper says, face soft and far too beautiful in the lamplight. "You’re right, you are a very good Mister Centipede."

Tony snorts, letting his head drop so his cheek can rest on Morgan’s hair. Peaceful silence fills the room, punctuated only by the heavy breathing of Peter and Morgan as they sleep. After a moment, he notices the feel of Pepper’s gaze lingering on him and swivels his eyes to meet hers. 

"What?" he whispers curiously. 

"You remember on our wedding day when I told you that you’d never looked more handsome, except maybe when you’re smeared with grime and have your messy hair?"

Tony smiles lazily. "Always knew you had a grease monkey kink, Miss Potts."

"I take it back.  _ This _ ," Pepper sweeps a hand in his direction, "is your best look by far."

Tony cocks his head minutely in question, then lets out a small, " _ oof!"  _ as Peter’s head butts into his ribs. He tenses, waiting for Morgan to wake up at the disturbance. 

But the pair of them sleep on, Peter wriggling back into the covers, nose prodding Tony’s side and Morgan’s drool seeping into Tony’s shirt. Tony soaks up the moment, the way Morgan fits so tidily in the circle of his arms; how comfortable it is to have Peter’s weighted warmth pressing into his side; how perfect it is to have the two of them so close by. 

Tony glances at Pepper again, his already pounding heart flip flopping as he notices the sparkle in her eyes, all that love that she has just for him, well worn and soft and gorgeous. 

This is their thing, he realises. The dumb, goofy way they look at each other when it’s just the two of them, years of loving one another painting everything sweet and safe, and boy does he love her, so much that it’s welded into his very DNA like golden iron. 

Tony closes his eyes when she comes over to kiss him, a hand cupping his jaw tenderly and a lock of hair tickling his cheek. 

"Sleep well," she says playfully as she pulls away, but not before pressing one more kiss to his forehead, knowing full well that he has absolutely no intention of moving anytime soon. 

"Yes, boss," Tony murmurs with a smile, letting her ease the book out of his hands and watching her turn off the light, eyes never leaving her until she disappears into the hall. 

With movements conducted with painstaking care, Tony somehow manages to shift down the bed, keeping Morgan tucked close to his chest as he goes. He winds up with Peter’s face smushed into his shoulder and Morgan sprawled across him like a starfish, not an inch of room for him to move except to angle an arm so his hand can rest in Peter’s hair once more, the other gently holding Morgan’s head securely in place. 

Hope blooms inside Tony because suddenly, in this moment right here, May’s promises don’t seem so far fetched anymore. 

He has a _ chance _ ; a chance to fit the final puzzle piece of this patchwork happy ending into place, and like hell is he going to let it slip through his fingers when he’s so close. 

Tomorrow, he vows to himself as he feels sleep tug him down, mind fogging out to the husky lullaby of his kids breathing safely and soundly beside him. 


	3. Chapter 3

Tony wakes up alone and to the sound of joyful laughter coming from somewhere outside. 

His resolve from last night fizzes through him like residue from a lightning strike as he moves over to the bedroom window and looks out at where Morgan and Peter are playing together. To think that this could be a regular sight, a part of his normality, leaves him feeling slightly nauseous with nervous excitement. 

Pepper smiles at him over her glass of orange juice when he shuffles into the kitchen, freshly showered and in dire need of coffee. 

"They’ve been out there since the crack of dawn."

"Doesn’t surprise me. How’s the kid?"

"Soldering on. He might not be throwing up anymore but it’s obvious he’s still not feeling great." Pepper takes another sip of juice. "Reminds me of someone else I know who doesn’t seem to ever want to make things easier on himself."

Tony finishes pouring coffee into a mug - his favourite one decorated with three year old Morgan’s hand prints - and raises an eyebrow at Pepper. "I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, dear."

She smiles at him and leans over for a kiss, the tang of her orange juice lingering sweetly between their lips. "Time to seize your moment. I’ll keep Morgan busy for you."

Cliche protests dance across Tony’s tongue, ready to deny and distract, but he knows that this can’t go on. Damn it, he doesn’t _want_ it to go on. So he takes a deep breath, a huge gulp of scalding coffee, and heads outside onto the porch into another bright, warm day. 

"Hi, Daddy!" Morgan calls from where he and Peter are sitting at the little picnic table, bundled up in thick hoodies to ward off the crisp freshness of the morning. He waves a hand which appears to be covered in small pieces of paper. "We’re making decorations for the party next week."

"Yeah?" Tony wanders over, taking in the mess of construction paper, glue sticks and safety scissors. "Wow. Guess I won’t need to go shopping for any, huh?"

Morgan beams up at him proudly. "Peter’s helping too."

Tony looks over at Peter who grins bashfully as he holds up on a pile of crudely made paper spiders and Iron Man helmets. "Bet you can guess what the theme is."

"I wonder," Tony smirks. "Hey, Mojo, I think Mommy was hoping you’d help her out with something. Why don’t you go find out what she’s up to?"

"We haven’t finished though," Morgan says, looking at Tony with a bemused frown. 

"Tell you what," Tony sets down his coffee and extends one hand. "You go find her, and Daddy will pretend not to notice next time you dig under the porch. Deal?"

Morgan shakes his hand and bounds off the bench and towards the house. Peter laughs, smiling at Tony as he steals Morgan’s seat, shuffling a left behind Jake the giraffe aside with adequate care. "Wow, he really likes it under there, doesn't he?"

Tony nods. "Knowing my luck, there’s probably an actual giant centipede down there living beneath the kitchen."

Their eyes meet with warm amusement, though there’s no ignoring the hint of discomfort in Peter’s. 

"Still feeling rough?"

"Not so bad anymore. Head still kinda hurts but I’ll be fine by tomorrow."

"Uh huh. Any particular reason why you didn’t tell me yesterday that you were sick?"

Peter shrugs. "‘Cause I knew you’d insist on coming with me and I didn’t want to spoil the day for Morgan."

"That day was for you too, kid. You know that, right?" 

Another shrug, too casual and easy, and it’s that which stokes the fire inside Tony, turning smoking kindling into furious flames because it’s too much; all that he feels and all that Peter seems unaware of is too much. 

"Underoos," the nickname falls from Tony's mouth with such reverence, like a wish on a star, "you know that you matter just as much as he does, yeah? You - please tell me you know that."

Peter blinks at him, forehead dipping in a frown. "Mister Stark - "

"’Cause you do," Tony steamrolls, everything rushing up inside him like a volcano. "I know I didn’t raise you, kid. I know I never rocked you to sleep or scared the monsters out from under your bed, but that doesn’t change how much you matter."

"Mister Stark - "

"And I know I was shit at all this stuff before, I know, but... _God,_ kid, this," Tony wags a finger back and forth between himself and Peter, "honestly, it kills me to think you don’t know how much the pieces of my life were built around you."

He pauses to take a breath. It’s ragged, like he’s been running a marathon. 

Across the table, Peter just stares at him. Tony sighs and can’t help but reach over and grasp one of Peter’s hands, holding as tightly as he dares. 

"Bottom line is that you’re my kid and I won’t have you doubting how much that really means."

There’s a brief pause, time somehow standing still as they look at one another, the soft hushing push of the lake on the bank and the birds twittering in the trees filling the absence of words. 

Then, "You’re an idiot, Mister Stark."

For a moment, Tony wonders if he’s suddenly having an out of body experience, because he can somehow _see_ the expression on his own face, stunned and dazed. There’s a bubble of hysteria blowing up inside him, some kind of strange mix of relief and hope because Peter is smiling at him, so brightly even as tears start to touch the corners of his brown eyes. 

"I - you - why are you crying, Pete?" 

"I don’t even know," Peter laughs wetly. "I guess ‘cause I feel like crap, the world is crazy and I was dead for five years. And you’re an idiot." 

"Yeah, yeah you’ve said that," Tony says breathlessly. "Mind telling me why?"

Peter looks down at their joined hands, a few tears spilling down the side of his nose. 

"You remember that apartment fire a couple years ago? Well, I guess for you it’s way longer, but yeah, you remember? The fire department had mostly cleared out the building by the time I got there, but there were two people still trapped inside."

"The kids," Tony says, nodding. "Yeah, I remember. You went in alone even though I told you to wait for backup."

Peter smiles sheepishly. "Force of habit. You and Colonel Rhodes showed up just as I was helping them out of a window - "

"Then the roof started coming down - "

"And I heard you yell my name. Peter, not Spider-Man. You sounded so scared. Back then, I didn’t know you could even _get_ scared."

"Everyone gets scared, Pete. I spent the best part of six years being scared and then, well," Tony huffs, "my nightmares came true."

"I know," Peter says softly. "What I’m trying to say is that even though you haven’t always been the best at showing it, I’ve known since that day how much I matter to you. You, uh, you’re a bit of a marshmallow to be honest, Mister Stark, don’t know if you’ve realised."

"Am I now?"

"Totally. All those dumb nicknames, how you always mess with my hair, all those times you sent me texts to check I was eating enough or covered me with a blanket when I fell asleep on your couch after working late in the lab. That’s all pretty marshmallow-y, you can’t deny it."

Once upon a time, Tony would have done exactly that, far too stubborn and bitterly afraid to truly give in to the light Peter had been surrounding him with. Now, he wants to do it all, give in and give away everything freely and brazenly until there’s not a single inch of space left for even the minutest bit of doubt. 

Peter’s hand shifts away with a curious, gentle tap as he asks, "So where’s all this coming from anyway?"

Tony keeps his gaze as steady with Peter’s as he can. "I’ve seen you, kid. How you’ve been since - since you came home. It’s a huge adjustment, all of this, and I can’t imagine it’s been easy for you."

Peter shrugs, brushing the remaining tears from beneath his eyes. "It’s not been so bad. Bit strange but, you know, May and I’ve talked a lot." He nods his head at Tony. " _We’ve_ talked too."

"Not enough," Tony shakes his head, "nowhere near enough if it’s still weighing on you like it is."

"What do you mean?"

"When you’re around me and Morgan," Tony says, "it’s clear as day. I wish it wasn’t, but it is. That’s why I need you to know - why I need to say all of this. Morgan being around doesn’t change anything about me and you."

Pete’s face scrunches up in pure bewilderment. "Why would it change anything?"

Tony swallows the lump in his throat.

_Here it is._

"Because he’s my son."

"Yeah…" Peter prompts, nodding slowly, waiting for Tony to continue. 

Which he does, because his next sentence is so incredibly easy to say. 

"And you’re like my son too."

"I don’t under - _ohh."_

"Yeah," Tony grimaces. "I get it, Pete, I do. I never had siblings but the way my old man talked about Cap, I may as well have. You’re not the first kid to feel left out or replaced by any stretch, and I’m sorry if I’ve not done enough to include you or - "

"But Mister Stark," Peter interrupts, a slight hitch to his voice, "I don’t feel like that. Like, _at all."_

Tony pauses, mouth hanging open and words dying on his tongue. He blinks twice, letting Peter’s comment do a few laps in his head before he says, "What?"

"I don’t feel left out," Peter says. He reaches out to fiddle with a piece of red card. "What, uh, what did I do to make you think that I did?"

An odd sensation sweeps over Tony, reminiscent of waves crashing against a beach and shuffling everything around within the swirl. Peter looks at him from across the table, the expression on his face far too similar to the one he wore on the day Tony took his suit away, so open and hesitant yet quietly fierce with emotion. 

"Mister Stark?"

"Yesterday. The zoo. You went home and lied about why."

"I told you, I didn’t want you guys to miss out, that’s all. I figured I’d go home and sleep it off. If I’d known how crap I’d end up feeling, I would have said something." Peter then winces as he adds, "I kinda learnt my lesson about that sorta stuff when I tried to hide that infected knife wound from you that time, remember?"

"Don’t remind me," Tony groans. "Okay, your phone then. Last weekend, you were sat on the porch and using it like a shield while me and Morgan hugged."

"Oh..."

To Tony’s surprise, a gentle blush streaks across Peter’s skin. 

"Kid?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry, that was, uh, MJ, she...askedmeoutonadate."

"Sorry, Pete," Tony says after a moment of confused blinking, "I don’t speak chipmunk. Wanna repeat that?"

Peter clears his throat. "MJ. Asked me out. She asked me out on a date. She texted me, that’s why I was, uh, really into my phone. Sorry, I know it was probably rude - "

"Your scary friend asked you out on a date - "

"She’s not _that_ scary - "

"And that’s why you were…" Tony trails off, letting his head drop into one of his hands. Then it snaps up again. "What about when you hung up on me the other day? You said Ned was calling you."

"He was!" Peter insists. "I’m sorry for hanging up on you, Mister Stark, but it was kinda important."

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah, you know all those Star Wars movies that came out while I was gone?"

"I've some idea, yeah," Tony says a little bitterly. He’d avoided them like the plague, for obvious reasons, despite Rhodey asking if he’d wanted to go. 

"Well, ‘cause Hollywood is, y’know, Hollywood, they’ve arranged for some big convention where they’re gonna show all the new movies on a huge screen and lots of the actors are gonna be there and - "

Tony holds up a hand. "Let me guess. Ned was calling to tell you he got tickets?"

"Yeah!" Peter says with a grin, though it quickly disappears. "Did...You really thought I had a problem with Morgan?"

Tony opens his mouth, falters at the hurt in Peter's expression, then shuts it again, settling for a wary nod. 

Peter toys with the sleeves of his hoodie for a minute or two. "I...Mister Stark, when I was younger I used to beg May and Ben to have a kid so I could have a little brother or sister, though they would have been my cousin technically," he rambles, words starting to speed up, "but having Morgan around is kinda like having a little brother. I know I haven’t been here for a long time but you’re such an important part of my life and I love you, so it makes sense I guess and, uh...oh man…"

Tony stares, dumbstruck and horrifyingly close to tears, as Peter’s head falls onto the table with a _thunk_ and a whisper of, "You have an awesome kid, Mister Stark."

Being wrong isn’t a new experience for Tony. He’s been wrong many, many times in his life about many things and each instance has always carried some sort of pain or regret with it. Obie, Ultron, Barnes, just to name a few examples. 

So really, to be surprised that he’s made a mistake feels pretty damn odd. And yet that’s exactly how he feels. As well as confused, relieved, and somewhere between having a heart attack and passing out.

The burden he’s been carrying gives way like a dam to rushing water, and the breath he takes fills his lungs entirely as the pressure within releases. The seeds left long ago in his heart by Peter, the ones that had flourished into life for Morgan, erupt into a blooming garden because this, right here, this is the great part, the final stepping stone into the full picture that Tony’s been waiting for. 

With legs that feel a bit like jelly, Tony stands up, moves around the table and eases Peter’s shoulders back, pulling the kid upright and onto his feet. They reach for each other simultaneously, arms wrapping round and holding on so tight. 

"You gotta do something about those math skills of yours, you know," Tony says, cupping the back of Peter’s head and burying his nose into the familiar tangle of curls , "’cause last time I checked, I had two awesome kids."

"Gimme a break," Peter mumbles into Tony’s chest, "I’ve missed five years of school, I’m bound to be a little behind."

‘Point taken," Tony concedes, increasing his hold as fondness paints him warm all over, mixing in delicate hues with the bewildered relief. "I can’t believe I got this so wrong."

"Wellll...not totally wrong. I am kinda mad at you, you know."

"Mad? Okay, mad, that’s healthy, expressing emotions is good," Tony leans back so they're face to face again. "Lay it on me."

Peter looks away for a moment, focusing on something just past Tony’s head, the muscles of his face clenching and eyes darkening as he thinks. 

"Kid?"

"You were going to use the gauntlet," Peter says, jaw tightening with anger. "You were going to use it which means you were willing to let yourself die and I’m...not okay with that. Really really not okay with that."

Right on cue, the memory of the battle hits. Tony closes his eyes and sees himself wrestle the gauntlet from Thanos, rush to link it with his suit, fingers not moving anywhere near fast enough - 

And then there’s Peter, crashing into Tony with his full weight, the pair of them scuffling briefly until Peter seizes the gauntlet with a desperate yell and throws it high into the air - straight into Carol’s waiting hands. 

Tony opens his eyes again, Carol’s wide smirk and triumphant call of " _gotcha,"_ vanishing as he looks at Peter. The kid looks right back at him, lips thin and eyes brimming.

"Part of the hero gig, Underoos, the whole survivability thing. You might not have been okay with me dying, but I sure as hell wouldn’t have been okay with _you_ dying _again_ because somebody didn’t step up, didn't make the sacrifice play." Tony rubs his thumbs up and down the slope of Peter’s shoulders, quirking his mouth almost apologetically. "Mad as you’d be at me, kiddo, I’d rather take that than relive the alternative all over again, you know?"

"You think I’d be able to live with it if you died?" Peter asks, raw vulnerability choking his words as the tears escape again. "I’ve lost enough people in my life already, Mister Stark. It’s not fair, and it’s not fair that you were gonna do that and give me no choice in having to live with it. I've _never_ had the choice."

"I know, bud."

"What’s the point in missing me if you aren’t gonna be around when I come back?"

Silence falls between them, the words hanging heavy within the gentle chatter of surrounding nature. Tony thinks back to that moment on the battlefield again, to how close he and Peter came to never truly seeing each other again; how a far too brief reunion in the middle of a sea of war would have been the only thing to bridge the gap of time that had kept them apart for so long. 

But as much as the thought of it all makes him burn, a phantom sorrow leaving trails of smouldering embers that somehow embed themselves into his soul as a permanent reminder of what could have been, Tony doesn’t feel regret. 

"Because you’d be okay," Tony finally says. "I’d be gone, but you and Morgan, everyone that I love, you’d all be okay, and that’s worth everything, Pete. Worth every shred of my life."

" _Every shred_ \- " Peter glares at him. "Mister Stark, your life isn’t meant to be collateral damage, you know? I mean, look at this," he waves his arms around, dislodging Tony's hands from his shoulders, "look at all you’ve built. You don’t…" he trails off, eyes drooping with such sadness. "You don’t know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"How to not look for a problem."

"I don’t - "

"You _do,"_ Peter insists. "You fought for peace so many times and you’ve got it, you have it right here so stop...stop trying to make it complicated."

"I got it wrong," Tony admits, "and I’m sorry, I am. Guess I just got caught up in everything being perfect - "

"But it already is, ‘cause it isn’t, you know? Things will keep happening but we’re still here. All of us are here. We made it and…" A few more tears fall and Peter scrubs them away roughly. "I just hate how you still act like your life doesn’t matter when it does. It _always_ has _."_

Tony’s heart knocks into his ribs with a sharpness that steals his breath. It’s like the last stand off on a chess board, the two final pieces facing one another with equal stubbornness, neither willing to give up their position. 

"Pete…when it’s your kids that you’re fighting for, nothing else matters. At all. My _life_ doesn’t matter in comparison to yours or Morgan’s and I know that’s not what you wanna hear," he rushes to say as Peter tries to argue, "but it’s a universal law. Strict code, completely binding, no get out clause. That’s just how it works. If you and Morgan are okay, then I don’t need anything else."

It’s obvious that Peter hates every word coming out of Tony’s mouth, though he doesn't say so out loud. Tony offers a helpless shrug, uncertain of what else to do, because this is a thing he can't fix or change. No amount of tinkering or fiddling can alter the instinctive protectiveness of a parent, the kind that transcends all else and leaves Tony something like the bad guy in almost every scenario. It's a status he's more than comfortable with, much as he loathes to see such discontent on Peter's face because of it. 

Figures he had to have a kid practically carved out of gold. 

Combined with the relentless sweetness of his other kid and well, Tony is just about as screwed as the best of them in the putting his foot down department. Why the parenting books didn't just own it and title everything 'Damned if You Do and Damned if You Don't' is absolutely beyond him. 

''Why are you smiling?'' Peter suddenly asks. 

''Huh? I'm smiling?''

''Yeah,'' Peter points at his mouth, ''really goofy, dumb smile.''

''Huh.''

''Looks _really_ dumb.''

''My garden, I'll smile however I damn well like.''

Peter rolls his eyes and tension breaks a little, just enough. 

''Tell me what you're thinking, kid,'' Tony says gently. ''No more bottling it up.''

"You said you’d know, you’d know I was okay, but how would you?" Peter whispers, looking like the kid he actually is, one that needs someone to take care of him instead of the other way around for a change. "If you were gone - "

"I’d know. I might be, as you so lovingly called me, an idiot when it comes to a lot of things but trust me," Tony taps his chest, right on the space where the arc reactor used to be. "I’d know."

Peter nods, face stoic as he tries to hold it all in. Tony doesn’t hesitate to pull him close, shouldering the rush that comes from the barriers finally breaking, standing steady and letting a few tears of his own fall as the world, or at least the little pocket of it that makes up all that matters in Tony’s, finds its orbit once again. 

"I’m still mad at you," Peter whispers again, a bit more fiercely this time. 

"Yeah," Tony laughs softly, understandingly, squeezing him gently. "I know, Pete. I know."

Tony never thought there’d be a day where he’d be glad to have the kid feel mad at him. Then again, he never thought time travel would ever be truly possible or that he and Steve would ever be able to stand in the same room together again without at least one casualty. 

Somehow, Peter being mad at him is on level with all the other little things that make Tony happy. The way Morgan always manages to dribble toothpaste down himself in the mornings; the tone of Pepper’s voice as she complains about finding another grey hair; how Rhodey’s hugs feel as safe as they did back in college and how reliable Happy’s grumblings are in any situation regardless of anything else. 

Because it’s _life._ Living, doing, having - all of it, all the ordinary and normal stuff that made it all worth fighting for in the first place. 

And Tony is definitely glad about that, about all of it. More than glad really; something like stratospherically ecstatic feels more appropriate. 

''You know," Peter says after a while, adjusting his head where it rests on Tony’s collarbone, "this is still a little weird. Old you would have been ranting about being infected with sentiment or catching feelings or something."

"I’m gonna be honest with you, kiddo. I caught feelings the day Rhodey bought me a meatball sub the first time I was hungover at college. I cried for an hour and promised to love him ‘til the end of time and I have no intention of ever breaking that promise."

"Must have been a really good meatball sub."

"It was, though Rhodey being Rhodey kinda sweetened the deal overall. Point is, feelings have been caught, I have many. A substantial collection in fact, and you know me, Underoos, I like to flaunt my things every once in a while."

Peter laughs. "You’re seriously such an idiot, Tony."

They both freeze. 

"Did - did you just call me Tony?" Tony says with a cackle of delight. "All this time and you _finally_ said it _."_

"Oh my _god,"_ Peter pulls away, shaking his head. "Never saying it again now."

It hits Tony then, just how much he loves this kid. Not that he didn’t know it already, but it flows over him with renewed energy, like new life awakening in the spring. 

And a love like that is pretty hard to keep bottled up. 

"I love you, kid," he says, melting a little when Peter lights up instantly at his words, "no strings attached, supernova strength, all that jazz."

Peter’s response is to pick up a bit of red paper from the table, lick it and slap it to the bare skin of Tony’s arm. 

"Seriously, Pete," Tony pulls a face and extends his arm out, "how old are you again?"

Peter just smiles. Tony shakes his head and then catches a proper glimpse of the shape stuck to him. 

A heart. 

"Congrats on levelling up and maxing out your marshmallow points," Peter teases through a sudden yawn as Tony ruffles his hair. "You’ll have diabetes before you know it."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony sniffs, coughing gruffly to clear the giant lump in his throat. He gestures to the cabin. "Come on, time for you to catch some more z’s. I may be an idiot, but I still know not to incur the wrath of May Parker for not taking care of her baby boy properly."

"Oh come _on - "_

Tony mimes a zipping motion across his lips and then points to the cabin again, eyebrows raised. 

Peter relents, all teenage muttering and sass as they head inside. Morgan meets them at the door, all too happy to assist Tony in bundling Peter onto the couch and sitting guard while Tony fixes them all a drink. A movie goes on and it isn’t long before both Peter and Morgan are snoozing, Peter stretching out across almost the entire length of the couch with his feet in Tony’s lap and Morgan buried into his side. 

"So what’s the verdict?" Pepper asks as she sits on Tony’s lap a little while later, trailing her fingers wonderfully up and down the back of his neck. 

"Apparently I’m a marshmallow."

"Oh, that’s nothing new," Pepper says, smirking when Tony playfully scowls at her. "I think that started back when you decided buying me a gigantic bunny was a suitable way of expressing your feelings."

"Still can’t believe you didn’t like that."

"No woman in the world would have liked it, honey," Pepper says while softly scratching his scalp. "So are you and Peter okay?"

"Yeah," Tony says, leaning further into her touch. "He’s a little mad at me. but someone’s always mad at me so hey, normality has been more or less restored."

"Hmm," Pepper hums, nodding over at Peter and Morgan. "That’s a pretty big improvement on normality, don’t you think?"

Tony looks at them too, heart swelling with a heady mix of pride and fondness and love, the sappy marshmallow kind that he knows will only soften him up more as time goes by. 

"You’re absolutely right, Miss Potts."

"That’s Mrs Stark to you," Pepper says and kisses him on the mouth. 

Before helping Pepper start a late lunch, Tony makes sure to put the paper heart on the fridge, using Morgan’s favourite Spider-Man magnet to keep it in place. 

* * *

The following Saturday brings another warm morning, the first signs of a fall chill shyly present in the air. With the atmosphere still adjusting, it’s no surprise that the weather seems to be a little out of sync, but Tony won’t begrudge the sunshine anytime soon. 

The arrival of the guests for the party begins early, the usual chaos starting when Quill sticks his head in through the window by the sink while Tony’s washing up the dishes from breakfast. Water sprays everywhere as Tony jumps back with a yell, barely managing to stop himself from falling over. Quill, now sporting a mop of sopping wet hair, merely grins in delight, far too infectious for Tony to not return even as he looks around at the mess on the floor. 

Nebula appears by his elbow moments later and he can’t resist pulling her into a one-armed squeeze, grinning at her fond glare. Drax’s booming laugh announces the arrival of the rest of the Guardians, and the foundations of the earth tremble under the force of Thor’s lightning as he lands outside.

"Miniature Stark!" he bellows joyfully as he steps through the door and scoops up an ecstatic Morgan into his arms. "And slightly less miniature Stark," he adds with equal happiness as he sweeps Tony up too. ''It's been too long!''

"Has it?" Tony wheezes, face pressed close to a giggling Morgan’s against Thor’s chest. "I didn’t realise."

Cars begin to pull up shortly after, familiar faces stepping out and carrying various plates of food. Tony eyes Nat suspiciously when she hands him a platter of skewered chicken dipped in some kind of marinade.

"This is safe to eat, right?" Tony asks. 

Nat merely smirks and pats him on the shoulder. 

"That’s not reassuring at all!" Tony yells after her as she heads over to say hi to Pepper. Dum-E, free from the garage for the party, zooms over to say hello as well, his excited screech sending a disgruntled Gerald running for the safety of his pen. 

Steve greets Tony with a bear hug that lifts him onto the tips of his toes. Bruce rolls his eyes at Tony’s welcoming shout of "What’s up, Jolly Green?" while Sam and Bucky bicker nonstop as they help set up tables and chairs, their teasing extending to a nearby Scott who just shakes his head with a good-natured grin. Wanda levitates a tablecloth over all of their heads and laughs louder than Tony’s ever heard her do so before when the three of them struggle to fight their way out. Strange and Wong emerge from a portal bearing dessert, including several tubs of Ben and Jerry’s which Strange hands to Tony with a dry chuckle. Clint and the rest of the Barton clan shout their hellos as they unpack what looks like enough bread and meat to feed a small army which, considering the presence of a couple of super soldiers and a bunch of aliens, might just come in handy. 

There’s music, courtesy of Quill, playing loudly, a game of tag football being organised by Carol, kids of various sizes running in every direction and food being lined up to go in the oven or on the grill by the time Rhodey arrives. Tony doesn’t hesitate to run over and all but tackle him.

"Honeybear, light of my life, you’re late."

Rhodey shakes his head with a snort of laughter but lets their hug linger for a little longer, a habit they've fallen into recently for obvious reasons. 

Peter, May and Happy are the last to arrive and by then, Wanda is retrieving the football for the sixth time from a tree, the scent of burgers is heavy and inviting and Steve is being ‘pinned down’ by Morgan and Nate Barton with Bucky encouraging them from the sidelines while waving one of Morgan’s plastic swords around. 

"So this is what the heroes of the world do in their downtime, huh?" May asks as she surveys the scene. 

"Beats the old days, right, Hap?" Tony grins at his friend. "Least you won’t need to bust in and do any forehead of security style rescuing anytime soon."

"Oh sure, you say that when I have this one to worry about now as well as you," Happy snorts, gesturing to Peter. The kid smiles far too innocently at him. "Don’t look at me like that, it’s exactly how _he_ ," Happy points at Tony, "used to look at me when I was about to be dragged into some horrible situation."

"You loved every second of it, Hogan, and you know it," Tony says, clapping Happy on the back before pulling Peter into a firm hug. "How you doing, kid? You look good.’

"I feel good," Peter tells him, and that’s all he manages to say before a piercing and very excited shout of, "PEEETERRRR!!!" interrupts them. An equally eager look spreads across Peter’s face and he races off to meet Morgan in the middle of the garden, catching the boy securely to his chest and spinning him around. 

Tony looks at May. "Did I just get ditched?"

"Your boys are best friends," May says, squeezing his arm. "You better get used to not being Peter’s favourite Stark anymore."

Tony glances over at Peter and Morgan again, his heart performing a backflip as he watches them peer under the decking of the house, a curious Rocket quickly joining them. 

"Guess you’re right."

"No more angsting for you then."

"Okay, can we not?" Tony groans as May giggles. "I’m trying to have a good time here." He reaches out and touches her arm. "Thanks, though. For, well, everything. You’re a force of nature, May Parker."

May’s eyes twinkle back at him as she says, "And don’t you forget it, Tony Stark."

On the day goes, a carefree energy embracing them all in a way it never has before. Tony soaks it all in with a sweet sense of freedom and quiet gratitude, like the strings that previously held him have been finally cut, setting him totally free.

The feeling lasts right up until he watches Peter scale one of the tallest trees, urged on by Morgan and the other kids to go higher and higher. It doesn’t matter that Tony’s seen Peter dive from skyscrapers or bounce off buildings like a rubber band hundreds of times, his stomach still tangles into a knot as Peter leaps into the air with all the grace of a ballerina and lands with perfect precision on the ground. He bows to the cheers and then scoops Morgan up and throws the giggling boy towards Bucky, who catches him with no problem. 

Rhodey appears beside Tony, chuckling. "Do you need CPR? You’re looking a little breathless there."

"Kids," Tony groans, sinking into a chair. "Seriously, whose idea was - " he flaps a hand weakly at Peter and Morgan. "It’s like my heart is literally out there, walking around on legs, legs that can break, all exposed and breakable." 

He takes a deep breath and then points at Rhodey as he sits down. "I blame you."

"Me?" Rhodey squawks. "How in the hell can you try and pin this on me? I didn’t knock you up, I didn’t tell you to adopt a teenager. You did this yourself, Tones. Not my fault being a dad has made you softer than a pillow factory."

The two friends fall into warm laughter, their shoulders bumping together. 

"Just for the record though, we’d have beautiful babies."

"Oh, you _had_ to make it weird."

"We could even name them Honey and Bear!"

"I hate you so much."

Much later, when the sun starts to set, Morgan crawls into Tony’s lap with a squashed burger clutched in one hand, giving an exhausted sigh as the events of the day begin to catch up to him. Everybody else soon follows his example, dragging a chair over until they’re all sat in a huge circle around a crackling fire. Food is continuously passed around while the stories dance back and forth, decades of adventures and heroics filling the air as the evening seeps in and the stars cover the sky. 

"This is insane,'' Peter, sitting by Tony's side, mumbles through a mouthful of fried chicken.

"What is?"

"This whole day. It’s like being at a convention, only way better."

"Kid, you know you’ve fought side by side with all of them, right? Remember, big battle to save the universe?"

"But still!" 

"I better still be your favourite superhero, you know."

"Spider-Man’s my favourite," Morgan says cheerfully.

"Yes, Mojo, I’m well aware," Tony sniffs in mock offence. "I may be retired now, but the second I hear any talk about Cap squared becoming your favourite, I’m disowning you."

"You’ll always be my favourite," Peter says, "even when your hair turns totally grey, which probably won’t take that long by the way."

"Your fault. All your fault."

Morgan soon dozes off against Tony’s chest, which is just as well as the tales being shared start to get wilder and wilder. Tony accepts the blanket that Steve offers with a smile and tucks it carefully around the sleeping boy, shuffles him into a more comfortable position, then loops an arm over Peter’s shoulders. 

"You know, you still haven’t told me how your date went."

"I’m telling you nothing."

"Oh, come on, kiddo," Tony laughs. "It’s a big milestone, you know. First date…first kiss?"

" _Tony."_

"Fine. Spoil my fun. When May declares an open bedroom door policy, don’t come crying to me for sympathy."

Peter’s forehead knocks against his shoulder with irritation, but he stays put so Tony figures the kid isn’t actually annoyed in the slightest. They sit quietly as more and more stories are shared, laughter and banter blending together and warming Tony up just as much as the fire. 

"Kinda crazy when you think about it," Peter murmurs. 

"Hm?"

"All these stories. Like, we all collectively fought to save the universe and now we’re just sitting around a campfire eating awesome food and listening to Thor talk about space monkeys like it’s the weather. Just seems crazy to me."

"That’s all it is in the end, kid. Just crazy stories. Nothing but stars in the sky once all is said and done."

Peter cranes his head back to look up. ''Sure are a lot of them.''

"Yeah, well, we’ve had plenty to tell." Tony presses a kiss to Peter’s temple. "Promise I’ll be there for as many of yours as I can."

Peter leans into the contact, arms winding around him in a hug that borders on just a bit too tight. The breath gets squeezed out of Tony a little, but if he wakes up to bruises in the morning, it’s okay.

This time it’s more than okay. 

* * *

Tony’s phone pings with a message early the next morning just as he’s taking his first sip of coffee, standing sleepily in the still to be cleaned kitchen. Rolling his eyes at the massive stack of dirty dishes by the sink, Tony takes another gulp from his mug and pulls out his phone. 

**_Honeybear: Hey Iron Dad, thought you might wanna check this out._ **

There’s a video attached to the message and Tony instantly hits play. 

The image starts off blurry, the sound of boisterous chatter kicking in before everything else. As the picture sharpens, it reveals a slumbering Morgan and the closely huddled forms of Tony and Peter sitting by the fireside from the night before. Their mouths move in unheard conversation, faces content in the flickering light as Tony cards a hand through Peter’s hair and rubs Morgan’s back at the same time. 

It’s the simplest of moments, a glimpse into a quieter part of a life that by a mere glance could belong to anyone for how typical and everyday it seems. 

Just a moment with a man and his two kids, nothing more. 

It’s Tony’s new favourite thing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was affectionately known as the 'Boy Morgan' fic for so long, it's weird to see it finished! I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> Yeahhhh I made Morgan a boy and made Tony reach ultimate worried dad levels - what can I say.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kind comments and kudos appreciated <3


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